


Slip

by vwright



Category: Ylvis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:11:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3979279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwright/pseuds/vwright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far is the fall, really?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip

**Author's Note:**

> I'm literally doing everything in my power not to do homework so if I wake up tomorrow and decide this is dumb, then down it goes.
> 
> Disclaimer: The events, characters, and entities depicted in this work are fictional. Any resemblance or similarity to any actual events, entities, or persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

437 days of barely missed reciprocity, shy reprimands to the other's character, and deep breaths that never reached the bottom of his lungs. He felt like he was walking on a foot's-width high beam for over a year - it wasn't so hard, but just enough to impress himself when he could keep it up for long stretches of time. It almost became unconscious after a while but he started to notice how he could never slump, always pulling himself taut and upright. Eventually he got tired and just wanted to fall. Was the drop really that far?

He liked looking at her and knowing their shared gaze looked as good as it could get. Anyone could peer through their front window and awe at the years and prosperity between them. But he sort of wanted to stop being okay with compromising and instead share a look with someone and know they were thinking exactly the same thing. That moment when he looked and saw the same origin of thought, origin of feeling and processing staring back at him--likely because they originated from the same cells and energy. It was about finding a blood match and not just a universal donor.

There were times when the quiet he so loved turned on him, and the echoing phrases in his head were ones he hadn't heard since things got better. It got harder to remember what was so wrong, and when he did, what was so bad about kissing in the dark? Did it really hurt that much to feed a lie to someone who knew your tells? She wasn't perfect either. He sat on his living room couch at 9pm in the lazy company of his family and kept idly thinking, _I should probably get home._

The key to staying upright was looking straight ahead, keeping yourself distracted and putting one foot in front of the other. He could get cocky and start looking around, testing the swing of his arms, but one wrong move and he'd slip. The crawl back up might be impossible. He didn't get mad anymore when she tuned out. Didn't say anything when she hung up his shirts facing the wrong way, and she didn't call him out for putting off the letters she told him to write. Her skin started to get just as dry as his. He looked over the edge. Balance was overrated.

 

 

He called him at first but hung up before he got an answer. He sent a text saying "deck" - confident their geographical go-to's were still the same. He got there first but Bård wasn't far behind. He wore the sweater Vegard thought he would, but his hair was different.

"Did you cut it?" he asked.

Bård nodded, looking down and barely smiling. "Yeah. It was getting long, just thought..." He didn't finish but it was okay because Vegard wanted him to stop.

He walked forward, the creak of the wood beneath him not even a worry. Bård's family wouldn't notice. They wouldn't wake up, they wouldn't mind. Bård's puffing breath clouded in front of his red-tipped nose. It was cute, like the way he put his socks on upside down in his haste to come outside.

They were close but Vegard stayed where he was, waiting for Bård to say something, a sarcastic line. He always did.

"Are you done playing house yet?" Bård looked straight at Vegard's mouth. He pulled one hand out of his pocket and scratched his palm with a closed fist.

"How long until you're done being mad about it?" Vegard smiled back.

"Guess you'll find out."

Vegard huffed a laugh and Bård bit his lip. He could play coy for another hour if Vegard let him, so he grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down. Their lips pressed together, and it was like Vegard was walking through the front door. Bård grabbed his waist and Vegard was toeing off his shoes, turning on the fireplace. Their tongues got involved, and then he was settled on the metaphorical sofa. The right person snuggled in beside him - Vegard had nowhere else to be. Bård let out a heady little moan into the cold air, his right thumb rubbing at Vegard's cheek.

Bård walked them back, Vegard stepping backwards in a clumsy rush. He wasn't looking, wasn't concentrating, and so he slipped. The wet wood hurt his hip when he smacked against it, and the weight of his taller brother on top of him only added to it. Bård laughed loud and straight into his face. His family could wake up. Or they wouldn't. Vegard lay back on the ground, pulling Bård against him and latching his lips into quiet.


End file.
